


Cabin in the woods

by Ricksbowlegs



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bottom Rick, Caring Daryl, Explicit Sexual Content, Impatient Rick, M/M, Rickyl Writer's Group, Top Daryl, there's smut people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricksbowlegs/pseuds/Ricksbowlegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a couple is hard when there's so many people around, so Daryl takes Rick to the cabin he found in the woods for some much needed time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabin in the woods

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.  
> Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Daryl nor Rick nor any of TWD characters. This is just for fun.  
> Yes, I know the title sucks but I was too lazy to think of a better one.
> 
> Rickyl Writer's Group, YAY! First fic since I'm a member so...I don't really know how it works. I Hope you enjoy! And let me know what you think. I love comments.

“So how much further?”

Daryl, steps ahead of him turned around and glared at Rick, signaling for him to keep quiet. He was curious about what had the hunter so excited to show him, so he followed the older man’s every step trustfully, no matter how impatient he was starting to get.

It was kind of exciting being out there with Daryl just the two of them and not being on a run for food, ammo, gas for once. This wasn’t for the survival of the group, but for entirely selfish purposes that would benefit just the two of them. 

“Just enough to get us there,” Daryl answered without looking at him, concentrated on the ground in front of him.

Rick rolled his eyes and nodded. “I figured.”

“I’ll get ya there, won’t I?”

He loved to see the archer in his natural environment. Leading him, ordering him here and there, telling him to keep quiet and follow through, warning him about noises and possible traps and being completely in tune with his surroundings, seeing things Rick would need years of training to see. 

“Yes, you will. I trust you,” he said, because he did. He trusted Daryl with his life.

Ever since he stepped aside from leading the group, Rick found himself more and more convinced that it had been the right decision. The uncertainty about whether or not he was making the right calls; the expectations, the weight of responsibilities, all that on top of Shane and Lori’s death had shattered him, both emotionally and mentally. Besides, the council members–Daryl included– were doing a fine job leading the group without him. 

They all kept telling him he needed this respite– that he’d earned it. Rick didn’t quite believe it for it had been all of them, not just him, who’d won the prison. They’d all fought for it and they all deserved the same recognition. But either way he was thankful for it. He no longer felt on the brink of a mental break down every second and his anxiety had diminished considerably. Learning about farming had helped him a great deal too. But if he was completely honest with himself, Daryl had a lot, if not everything to do with it. The hunter’s steady presence and support had been essential to get him back on the right track, helped Rick clear his mind and gave him hope for the future. 

And he loved Daryl. 

The night Dale died– back at the farm– Rick had been terrified of pulling the trigger. But they all kept pushing him to do it, expecting him to _do_ something. His hands were shaking, Dale’s intense stare pleading, begging him not to kill him and begging for the opposite just as desperately. He’d been a millisecond from pulling that thing when he felt it, Daryl’s warm, steady hand taking the gun from him, stepping up and taking over… for him. That’s when he knew it. That was the moment he realized he loved Daryl Dixon. 

There were many traits in the hunter’s character Rick admired: intelligence, self control, courage, selflessness, to name a few, but what Rick loved most about him was his ability to read him like a book. Any time he felt doubt, fear or something equally as dampening, Daryl knew it somehow and offered his wise words or silent support at the exact moment he needed them. Their connection ran that deep.

Rick didn’t know how exactly their relationship shifted from platonic to something else, in what moment the glances– friendly at first– became something more, or when the supportive pats on the back became loving, nor what exactly led them to that first kiss in his cell. It just sort of…happened.

Five months or so had come and go from that first kiss and their relationship kept getting stronger. And now, he and Daryl were heading toward this unknown destination for much needed time alone, away from prying eyes and the threat of Carl surprising them at every corner. That kid was like a ninja when he wanted to sneak on people.

He knew about them, Carl. Rick hated lying to him so he had to tell him, much to Daryl’s discomfort. The others, they all knew as well– at least in cell block C. No thanks to them telling them but because it was inevitable really. They were tight like family and their living arrangements were just as tight. They supported them of course, but it didn’t make the archer any less uncomfortable about it. 

Carl took it surprisingly well. He was happy for his dad, he said, that if there was someone who would take good care of him, that someone was Daryl and that they deserved to be happy. Rick was relived. Daryl was as well although he hid it under a mask of mock annoyance. Then the archer took Carl somewhere else to have a serious, man to man conversation that they never talked to Rick about and brought the two a lot closer. But none of that meant he would allow Carl to see them smooching everywhere and God forbid he ever caught them having sex. 

After a very unfortunate incident with Hershel, Rick had to step his foot down. They would be cautious about it and choose where and when wisely, out of respect for his son and everyone else. Daryl agreed halfheartedly. If it were for the archer, they’d be going at it just about all the time. 

“Any chance we reach this mysterious destination before dark?” Rick asked after he tripped over a root for the third time earning a chuckle from Daryl. “I’d hate to be stuck in these woods at night.”

“Man, it’s just a bit ahead, hold onto your panties.”

“I thought you were impatient to _fuck_ me,” he said tightly, still uncomfortable with the word even when Daryl used it any chance he got.

“I am, and if ya don’t pipe down I’m gonna have to fuck you against one of these trees,” Daryl teased in a mock–threatening tone.

He chuckled. “Alright.”

Fifteen minutes further up and a shaggy cabin became visible through the trees. It was definitely not what Rick expected but he understood why Daryl was so excited about it. There were only trees surrounding it for miles around. It was the perfect place to enjoy each other properly. Besides, there was alcohol, lots of it.

“We found this place with Michonne a couple weeks back. It was loaded,” Daryl said as he carried a wooden box filled with jars of clear liquid inside the cabin. He must’ve had a confused expression on his face for Daryl felt the need to clarify. “Its moonshine and ya’re gonna get drunk on it.”

“Probably not a good idea, but okay,” he smiled and walked inside the cabin right behind Daryl.

The place wasn’t much to look at. Quite frankly it was a shit hole. Garbage piled up in every corner, old, tacky furniture scattered about and covered with useless rags and torn clothes or equally useless objects. The paper in the walls was stained and ripped in many places, revealing dark patches of humidity underneath. The air was stale and dusty and the dirt plastered on the windows turned the light that dared to come inside dim. Those were the things Rick might’ve noticed before the apocalypse. Now, all he saw was a five star resort for him and his partner. 

Daryl set the alcohol unceremoniously on top of the unsteady table and dusted off his hands. Rick came closer and rested his chin on one broad shoulder.

“You know I can’t handle liquor so well. If I pass out before we do anythin’ I don’t want you complaining.”

“I'll let ya have a sip,” Daryl joked. “Might be too much for ya anyway, but it’ll loosen ya up and that’s exactly what ya need.”

Rick nodded, smiling brightly and headed toward the sole armchair in the room and started patting to dust it off. Daryl came closer, carrying two jars of moonshine and sat on it heavily. 

“Ya know what’s funny?”

“What?” Rick asked as he hovered to the kitchen area.

“Hershel.”

“Yeah, I suppose he’s funny sometimes,” he answered a bit distractedly while trying to find anything useful in the old cabinets and piled up crockery.

Daryl had lit a cigarette and was looking at him with an amused glint in his eyes. “Gave me the talk… when I told him I’d bring ya here.”

“The talk?” Rick turned to the hunter and looked at him curiously.

“mhmm,” Daryl hummed, nodding slowly, caressing his chin with his index, “told me not to get ya too drunk… and to bring ya back home in one piece.”

“He did that?” he cocked his head in disbelief. 

“I don’t think he trusts me with ya.” Daryl jokes, “thinks I’m bad influence.”

It was Rick’s turn to snort. “I’ll have to agree with him on that.”

“Think he’s still scared about the time he caught us.” Daryl took a long drag of his cigarette and let the smoke out as he spoke again. “Ya were screaming pretty loud. He thought I was killing ya.”

“Hershel should keep his nose out of everyone’s business,” Rick said defensively but couldn’t contain the bashful smile that graced his lips. 

Daryl snorted again. “It’s yer own fault.”

“I’ve learnt to keep my mouth shut after that,” Rick said, blushing slightly. “And it’s why we started being more careful.” 

“Fucking Hershel,” Daryl huffed and took a sip of his drink. “Ya won’t need to keep it down here, ya know?” 

The hunter sent him a dark, mysterious glance from his position on the armchair; fingers still caressing his chin. Rick returned it and walked over to the hunter, picking up his jar from where Daryl had left it on top of a plastic box beside the armchair. Daryl sat up straighter as Rick straddled his lap; hands instantly snaked around the younger man’s waist, under his shirt and jacket, bringing him closer, caressing the skin with his thumbs. 

“You gonna make me scream?” he asked in what he hope was a seductive tone. It came out more playful than anything.

Daryl narrowed his eyes and grunted. “Ya bet.”

Rick took a gulp of moonshine from his jar and set it down next to Daryl’s, grimacing at the strong burn. He really shouldn’t drink more than that one sip. Leaning forward, he held the older man’s face in both hands and kissed him passionately. Daryl grunted in approval, sticking his tongue out to invade Rick’s mouth hungrily. When Rick sat back up, breaking the kiss, Daryl chased after him and stole one more kiss before sitting back down. The ex–officer licked his lips and reached for his jar to take a second gulp.

“I mean it. Go easy on the stuff,” Daryl warned and reached for his own jar. His other hand caressed Rick’s thigh languidly.

“If I pass out, you’re allowed to do whatever you want with me,” he purred. 

“I’m not into ya bein’ a rag doll. I like it when ya squirm,” Daryl said huskily. “And I’m counting on that screaming.”

“Sure you wanna risk that? We’re in the middle of the forest here; anythin’ could be drawn to us if we don’t keep it down.” 

“I’d risk anything to hear the sweets sounds ya make when I’m inside ya deep,” said Daryl, staring at his lips intently.

Rick chuckled and stole the cigarette from the corner of Daryl’s mouth to take a drag. 

“Ya look good smokin’.”

“You think I look good doing anythin’,” he breathed the smoke out, managing not to cough for once.

“Well, ya do,” Daryl said squeezing his thighs and received the cigarette with his other hand to take one last drag from it. “Right now…ya look great in my lap. Love your legs” 

Rick could feel the archer’s member filling up and growing hard under him so he wiggled his bum, pressing down against it, eliciting a soft grunt from Daryl who instinctively thrust up.

“Thank you for bringing me here. It’s a nice cabin.”

Daryl snorted and flicked the consumed butt of his cigarette into this horrible, huge pink plastic ashtray shaped like a female’s top.

“It’s crap… just a bunch of junk. Sorry it ain’t nicer.”

“I like it,” Rick said sincerely. “We’re here together, alone together. We’ve alcohol and food and water. We have everything we need.”

“Yeah? Ya really like it?” Daryl asked. There was a strange tone to his voice, almost hopeful, like it was important to him that Rick liked it.

“It’s got potential,” Rick said and found Daryl’s hands with his own, interlacing his fingers with the archer’s calloused ones. “We could clear some of this garbage out, get it cleaned up and ready for when we need time for ourselves.”

Daryl snorted. “Our own get away.”

Rick nodded, smirking down at the archer. “Exactly.”

“Some other time,” Daryl grunted, thrusting his hips upwards, rubbing his half-erection against the younger man’s bottom. “I got better things in mind for us to do right now other than cleaning this shit hole.”

Rick pushed his hips down to meet the hunter’s thrusts and leaned to kiss Daryl again; a loud, wet kiss before pulling away and getting on his feet. He started opening the buttons of his beige jacket one by one. Daryl for his part, popped open the button in his pants, unzipped it and lifted his butt off the chair a bit to pull them down just the right amount to set his member free. Rick marveled at the sight of the archer’s strong hands grabbing his thick, long cock; fist wrapped tightly around it, pumping up and down in a lazy rhythm. Dark blue eyes trained on Rick, assessing his every movement.

Rick felt exposed in the most delicious and sinful way. Daryl always made him feel that way. The hunter bored eyes at him with such intensity the leader felt his knees go weak; face flushed and insides pulsing with need. 

Opening the last button of his jacket, the younger man slowly stripped off it and hung it neatly on the back of one of the chairs by the table. Then, he did the same with his shirt popping button after button, from top to bottom, making a show out of the whole thing.

He flicked his eyes up toward Daryl and almost whimpered at the sight. The hunter’s member stood proud in between his legs now fully erect, a drop of white fluid at the tip and the engorged vein underneath stood out, adorning the thick shaft enticingly. Rick felt his mouth watering and his insides throbbing, eager to be breached by Daryl’s cock.

“C’mere,” Daryl said in such a collected tone Rick was beginning to doubt the archer was even aroused. Damn the hunter and his self control.

He obeyed for he could wait no longer. He tossed his shirt sloppily over his jacket and made quick work on his belt, putting it down on the floor beside him. He opened the button of his jeans and hastily pulled the garment down his legs, underwear and all, kicking off his boots in the process, then bent over to free his legs of his pants.

The leader stood now completely naked in front of the hunter. He shivered with excitement and the thrill of being exposed in such a vulnerable way. Daryl stood up to stand in front of him, chest puffed out and shoulders thrown back, he seemed to tower over Rick. Even though they were the same height, Daryl was bulkier, shoulders broader and arms thicker than his. He liked it, that difference, loved Daryl’s bigger size…especially down there. 

Rick reached down to Daryl’s shaft and wrapped his hand around it– eyes firmly trained on the archer’s. He wondered at the thickness and weight of it, longing to feel it inside him, filling him. The archer groaned in response and thrust against the leader’s hand for more friction.

“I want you,” Rick huffed and placed his lips firmly against the crook of Daryl’s neck, kissing the skin chastely. The hunter shuddered and gripped Rick’s hips almost painfully. Stepping backward, he let himself fall back on the armchair, bringing Rick with him. The younger man straddled Daryl’s lap again, much more easily now without his restricting clothes on.

He leaned forward to capture the older man’s lips in a passionate kiss. Daryl responded with fervor, hands immediately roaming all over Rick’s back then traveling south to cup the meaty portions of Rick’s behind, squeezing possessively and tugging the man flush against his crotch. Rick arched his back as his growing erection clashed against Daryl’s, mewling wantonly at the sensation, closing his eyes in reflex and throwing his head back. When Rick opened his eyes again, the hunter was staring at him with fixed intensity. He had that predatory look on him, the one that let the ex-sheriff know this would end with him in complete wreck. The thought made him nervous and excited. His stomach tingled and his insides twitched and Rick longed to have Daryl Dixon’s cock buried deep within.

Daryl attacked his exposed neck, teeth gracing sensitive skin, sending chills up and down his spine. Rick grabbed both their erections and wrapped his hands around them, tightening his grip and rubbing them up and down to which both men gasped in synch.

Rick heard the vial of lube Daryl had stashed in his pants being uncapped and he vibrated with excitement. He loved this moment, right before Daryl’s expert fingers breached him and touched him in the most intimate way. One slicked finger circled his entrance and he twitched his hole in reflex, trying to suck it in but he knew Daryl would take tortuous amount of time. The archer loved to play him and make him wait until the ex-sheriff was a mess, begging to be taken.

“Daryl,” he huffed in exasperation. 

“What?” Daryl said innocently, still circling Rick’s hole with his index.

“Don’t tease,” he pleaded. Daryl just stared at him. The dark blue orbs settled on Rick’s lips and he licked them in invitation. The archer took it and plunged his mouth with his tongue, penetrating, owning. He let out a soft whimper when Daryl inserted the tip of his finger in and he rolled his hips for more contact. The finger went in just a tad bit further before the archer cruelly withdrew it, earning a frustrated growl from Rick.“I thought you were impatient.”

“For this,” Daryl said and inserted the finger again, this time, all the way in to the first knuckle, “every part’s my favorite.” Rick writhed and pushed his hips down against the hunter’s hand, but Daryl would have none of that and grabbed his waist with his free hand, keeping him in place.

Rick let his head fall forward, resting his forehead against Daryl’s. “Please,” he begged. Daryl answered by plunging the digit deeper, to the second knuckle. The burning was bearable, so he didn’t complain or ask Daryl to stop. In fact, if it was for Rick, he’d have the archer fucking him right then with no further preparation. He moaned loudly when the digit withdrew completely and plunged back in to the last knuckle in one slow, but fluid motion. “I need more, now.”

“Hey, it’s been forever, I’m gonna enjoy this,” Daryl replied. 

Rick wasn’t happy with the answer but nodded against the hunter’s shoulder, which was where his head had fallen after one particularly well aimed thrust.

One finger became two and Rick started to lose it when Daryl curled his fingers and pressed against his prostate. He wiggled in Daryl’s lap trying to get more friction while letting out soft, consecutive moans, throwing his head back and rolling his hips forward, clenching and unclenching around the fingers inside him.

“Please, Daryl…just do it,” he begged, voice rough with pleasure. “I’m fine with two, just get in.”

Daryl snorted and Rick opened his eyes to see what the archer found so funny.

“Hold up,” Daryl said softly and kissed his shoulder. “Y’know ya need more to take me in.”

Rick knew this of course but his pleasure-ridden mind couldn’t grasp it at the moment, all it cared about was having the archer buried deep inside as soon as possible. 

Their first times they had sex they suffered some very uncomfortable consequences. Neither of the two was experienced in man on man sex and Daryl was more than well endowed, which resulted in Rick walking around the prison with a noticeable limp and grunting in pain whenever he sat down at the table for almost a week.

Rick sighed in frustration, hanging his head against his chest. Daryl fingers had stopped moving during their exchange and he had to push down against them to get them going again. When they did, Rick quivered when they rubbed his bundle of nerves and the younger man let out a wretched sob while his hands gripped the hunter’s shoulders with force. His inner walls resisted and pain entered his senses when the fingers spread out and started scissoring him open. They would have to this more often if he wanted to get used to Daryl’s girth and always be ready to take him. Thankfully, the hunter knew by now how to work Rick’s body and take his mind off the pain. 

“Daryl,” he mewled when his spot got rubbed again and he melted in the older man’s embrace, completely forgetting the pain and eager for more. “I don’t care if I limp for a whole month, just fuck me already,” he grunted on the brink of anger. Daryl was used to his impatience so he just brushed him off with a chuckle.  
In what seemed like hours, a third finger joined the previous two and the stretch forced out a pained grunt from Rick before he could contain it.

“See? Ya can’t possibly take me in one go, love,” Daryl said, rubbing Rick’s lower back soothingly. A strong hand grabbed his withering erection in a firm hold and a thumb graced over the wet slit then pumped down to the hilt and up again to thumb his slit again. On the inside, his prostate was rubbed again and he violently quivered backward at the sensation, almost falling off the archer’s lap but Daryl grabbed him right on time and resumed his ministrations.

“Fuck! Fuck, Daryl…” he moaned, “shit…fuck.” 

“What would Hershel say if he heard ya right now?” Daryl teased. “He’d probably say I polluted ya with my dirty mouth.”

“I don’t want to think about Hershel right now,” Rick huffed out, quite a bit annoyed at the slow pace. 

He arched his back and wailed loudly when a fourth finger was added and they all pressed against his prostate repeatedly, mercilessly attacking him with mind–blowing pleasure jolts while Daryl’s callused hand wrapped the base of his cock and then slid down to cup his testicles. 

“Please, Daryl, please,” he sobbed when the fingers pulled out. Soft kisses landed on his brow and temple. 

“Rise up,” Daryl said patting him lightly on the side. He then grabbed Rick’s hip with his free hand to help him hold his weight. The younger man gripped the broad shoulders for leverage and lifted his hips off of Daryl’s lap just enough for the archer to grab his cock and line it up with Rick’s waiting hole. The moment he felt the blunt head press against his opening, he pushed down, intent on impaling himself to the hilt in one go. Daryl stopped him of course, tightening his grip on his hip. “Fuck, Rick, wait up.”

“Don’t care,” Rick said in a rough voice. “Need you in me now,”

Daryl held him steadily. “Ya wanna strangle me? I need a moment too, ya know.” 

At that, Rick met the hunter’s dark eyes, guilt engulfing him. “Sorry.”

“No need to be, but lower yerself slow, like I’ve taught ya, alright?”

Rick nodded and did as told. He casted his eyes down at his neglected member, stiff and leaking pre cum, completely missing the smirk Daryl threw him.

It hurt like always, but not nearly as much as their first couple of times. Daryl was thick and long and stretched him painfully but oh so deliciously. Even with the slow pace and thorough preparation it seemed it would be too much to take and it never seemed to stop sinking deeper and deeper; he could almost feel the head pressing against his stomach already.

“Ngh…Daryl,” he whimpered, struggling to adjust.

Daryl caressed his sides up and down then his lower back, speaking soothing nonsenses against his ear. “Easy there, sweetheart, it’ll get better.” 

It took a few minutes but it did get better. It always did. He let Daryl know it was okay to continue with a short nod of his head.

“Sure?”

Rick nodded again and wrapped his arms around the hunter’s neck when the hunter’s strong hands gripped his hips and pulled him up and off his lap only to drag him down again. Rick could feel every inch of his insides sliding up and then down the archer’s long cock as he was slowly impaled with the huge shaft. Rick followed Daryl’s rhythm and pushed up with his thighs the second time and let himself drop down a bit faster than what Daryl intended. He let out a growl at the intensity of the hunter’s cock filling him, the hot friction of skin on skin so deep inside drove the ex-sheriff mad and he wanted more. He needed more.

“Go faster,” he begged when Daryl wrapped his arms around Rick’s waist to prevent him from moving too fast.

“I’m gonna hurt ya if I do,” the archer argued.

“Daryl, fuck me, please,” he pleaded, rolling his hips back and forth, drawing out a low grunt from Daryl. The hunter couldn’t stop him from doing that at least. “I’ll be good. I won’t complain afterward.”

“I don’t care if ya complain, it’s not ‘bout that. I don’t wanna hurt ya. How many times do we have to have this conversation?”

He grunted, “I don’t–“

“Damn it, Rick! We startin’ slow or we ain’t doin’ shit.”

Daryl’s tone was determinant so Rick stopped trying and shut his mouth. The archer’s self control was something admirable. Here he was, begging to be fucked by the older man like an animal in heat and Daryl seemed to be about to shoot an arrow, with all the stillness and control it required.

From that moment on, everything became a blur. Daryl began thrusting his hips up a bit harder than Rick expected and just in the right angle; each powerful thrust resulted in the shaft inside him hitting his prostate repeatedly and intense waves of pleasure drowned his senses. He screamed out Daryl’s name, throwing his head back and exposing his neck to the hunter. Daryl’s mouth was on Rick’s throat instantly; tongue lapping at the sensitive skin, teeth biting softly and sending shivers down his back. Then Daryl began to suck with the sole intent of marking him. Rick couldn’t care less if anyone saw it. 

The hands on his waist tightened as he was lifted and pulled down to meet the archer’s thrusts.

“Fuck, Rick,” Daryl huffed out of breath, “Ya feel so good…around me…so tight.”

“Daryl…more,” was the only thing he could say. He needed Daryl to go deeper, harder.

“Fuck, this ain’t working.” Daryl stopped thrusting suddenly and made to stand. Rick got the hint and wrapped his legs and arms tight around the hunter as he was lifted off the armchair and placed carefully on his back on the floor, on top of some dusty, crumpled blanket; Daryl did all this without pulling out. “Is this better?”

Rick wasn’t able to respond as Daryl plunged in deeper than before if possible and each thrust applied even more pressure to his prostate so all he was able to formulate were loud, incoherent moans combined with something that sounded like Daryl’s name and harder.

“As ya wish,” Daryl said and grabbing Rick’s hips he pulled out leaving just the head inside and then thrust back home with ruthless force, each thrust stronger than the later. Rick arched his back and cried loudly, mouth hung open and a deep frown formed on his brow as he lost himself in the pleasure. His right hand went to grab his neglected member, but Daryl grabbed him by both wrists and pulled his arms above his head, leaning closer to capture the swollen lips in a wet, messy kiss.

“Want ya coming on my dick only,” Daryl huffed against his mouth and stuck his tongue out to lick Rick’s lips then kissed him again hungrily. The younger man could barely return the kiss as he moaned into Daryl’s mouth while the hunter fucked him, mercilessly abusing the bundle of nerves inside him with his huge shaft.

He could feel the coiling feeling of an orgasm approaching deep in his belly. He was desperate for relief and tried to pry his hands free from Daryl’s grasp but Daryl would let go. He whined weakly in protest, arching his back with each thrust as his whole body shuddered.

“Fuck! Daryl, m’close!”

“Me too, love,” Daryl whispered lovingly against his temple and place a tender kiss on his sweaty curls. 

Three more thrusts and Rick felt himself go over the crest and the subsequent drop of a powerful orgasm as his untouched cock released the white substance over both his and Daryl’s stomach and chest, letting out a loud cry of pure ecstasy. 

Rick was half conscious when Daryl spilled his warm seed inside him, but still managed a satisfied smile at the sensation of being filled by the hunter’s thick load. He loved that feeling.

With a grunt, Daryl collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily against his chest. They both were. 

After a few minutes, when they both regained their normal breathing, the archer pulled out as gently as always, but Rick couldn’t help but moan in discomfort. He received a kiss on the cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Are ya alright?” Rick nodded. “Be right back. Gotta get somethin’ to clean ya up.”

Rick nodded again and closed his eyes for a few minutes. When he opened them, Daryl was staring at him with concern.

“Ya sure ya okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said smiling. Daryl didn’t look too convinced as he lay down beside him–wet rag in his hand– and leaned closer to kiss him sweetly, to which the younger man responded in earnest. 

The archer broke apart too soon and sat back on his hunches, between Rick’s still spread legs and began cleaning him up tenderly. This was something Daryl always did, the after care. At first, it had made Rick incredibly uncomfortable and shy but Daryl insisted on doing it, that it was important and the archer wanted to do it, so he let him. Now, it was as natural as a kiss.

“Fuck. That was somthin’ wasn’t it?” The hunter said, dropping the rag behind him before lying on his back beside Rick.

“Tell me about it. It was amazing. I think you broke me,” he joked and Daryl threw him a sideways glance.

“Don’t even joke ‘bout it. I’d hate myself if I did.”

“I’m joking,” Rick said and cracked up a smile, “but I can’t move.”

Daryl snorted. “s’not like yer goin’ anywhere soon,” he said and stood up. “Now, how ‘bout we get fucked up drunk?”


End file.
